Sunday

In the throes of a sinus infection and cough, so we've decided to breathe our germs all over Starbucks in Clarendon Hills today. The Husband finished off his Z-Pack this morning. I'm hoping to call the MD and get drugs for myself in the morning. Not that he's much better.

We like this store -- older staff on Sundays with a mellow music selection. Although we did hear a vaguely disturbing cover of "My Heart Belongs to Daddy."

Started the morning with brunch with my folks, who were heathens today and didn't go to church. We were a hot aural mess, with Mom and the two of us suffering ear-stuffing cold stuff, and Dad with his standard can't-hear-despite-the-hearing-aids condition. Lots of shouting over restaurant noise followed by hacking.

Favorite moment at the restaurant: The high-maintenance customer at the next table encouraging us to ask for a bowl of mixed berries too, then complaining about the lack of service. 

And question of the day: Why is someone else's cold "just a cold," but your own is the end of life on this planet?